I'll be the Princess, You can be Target Practice
by Rantzilla
Summary: Prussia is a powerful king, with loyal servants and an 'awesome' kingdom, everything.Now if he could only find a suitable queen.He has a tiny fetish for going around and saving princesses, but will a certain gunsman manage to steal his heart, or shoot it?
1. Patience is a Virtue

Alrighty my dearies. This is my first multi-chapter Hetalia fic and shut up I absolutely ADORE this pairing. Do not. Know. Why.

I am extremely incompetent. And you should not expect me to update frequently or at all. REALLY. NO HOPE.

BUT. I WILL. TRY. Really hard!

Unbelievably this is not a spur of the moment kind of thing, had this idea for awhile and FINALLY got around to writing it. I have ideas for further chapters, but again, don't expect me to hold an updating schedule. I'm addicted to WoW, therefore I get sidetracked.

Also, PAIRINGS. I will not give them to you, NOPE. Read and find out! -shot- It's mostly the usual pairings. No surprises. 'CEPT MAYBE THE MAIN PAIRING. HMMM.

RATED T FOR LANGUAGE. NO LEMONS OR STUFF LIKE THAT. SORRY.

SO, without further ado, and without further useless rambling that absolutely no one will read, I give you:

* * *

**I'll be the Princess, You can be Target Practice  
**

_Chapter 1: Patience is a Virtue  
_

* * *

"Your Awesomeness."

"Yes, my loyal but significantly-less-awesome-than-myself servant?"

"We have received word from our Princess Party that a perfect match has been found for you at long last."

Somewhere behind him, a man groaned and mumbled an annoyed, "you said that the last eighteen times..."

Ignoring this, the servant continued unfazed, as if absolutely immune to ridiculous antics by now. And as he worked with King Gilbert every day, he most likely was. Either that, or he was saintly patient- maybe even a combination of the two.

"The Princess Party has also sent the specifics, and as per usual, they have performed their duties admirably. Considering the..." the small servant paused, screwing up his child-like face into one of intense concentration, searching for a fitting word "um... difficult.. circumstances, of sorts."

The red eyes of his King brightened, mind only registering the first thing the servant had stated- and before he even had a chance to hold out the folder addressed to King Gilbert, it was snatched from him quite swiftly. The servant didn't even flinch, as he was more than used to this by now.

He watched quietly and obediently, adjusting his white hat as he did so, as his highness' eyes moved back and forth along the papers inside, smile growing wider and wider with each paragraph.

Seeing where this was going immediately, the boy opened his mouth to give the most important piece of information he had yet to convey. The Princess Party had said it all in jest, but you could tell by the scratches on their faces, arms, legs, backs, and various other places that the visit to the princess had NOT been a pleasant one. And would not be so, as they said, for a king either. Though the servant disagreed with many of the kings' ways, he most certainly was a 'friend' of sorts, and would not send him to his death. Plus, he would be held accountable for the incident, and he didn't really want that either. Since he would most likely get his head chopped off or something of that nature...

Before he could utter a word, however, King Gilbert had catapulted himself off of his crimson and gold throne and sprinted in a most un-king like manner toward the giant double doors that led to the foyer, shouting a "K THANKS, FINLAND. I'LL BE BACK WITH THE PRINCESS SOON. SEE YAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" over his shoulder, and along with the yells, the breezy ruffling of papers could be heard skidding to a halt on the red carpet.

Finland stood there with his jaw slack for a moment or two- now staring at an empty throne- and all thoughts of execution flitting from his mind. He turned dazedly just as his King's red cape whipped around the corner of the mahogany doors. When said doors slammed rather loudly, Tino regained his senses with a jolt. Eyes widened, as he started running toward the doors as well, holding his hat down as he did so. And at the guards on either side of the narrow strip of carpet leading to the throne (who were now snickering, as Finland noted) he sent an accusatory glare, which actually turned out to be an adorable pout- but Tino didn't know that. He leapt over papers as he, too, raced after his arrogantly _annoying _King. And as he flung open the doors, he prematurely screamed, "YOUR AWESOMENESS, WAIT, THERE IS ONE MORE THING YOU NEED TO-"

His words echoed through the empty marble foyer, and in the distance the thundering sound of horse hooves signaled the departure of the one and only Gilbert Beilschmidt. Apparently, hormones give him super speed.

Tino sighed heavily- blaming the Princess Party for their neglect to put the important information _first _in the folder. They, of all people, should know that the king would leave post haste upon seeing the picture of the remarkably adorable girl that they had foun- and _oh those little bastards. _

'_They had done it on purpose! Oh they are SO getting a stern talking-to when they get back! It'll make their hangovers TEN TIMES worse!'_

Hm, maybe his threats needed some work... Or maybe those Princess Party imbeciles needed to stop being assholes.

He groaned quite loudly and dug the heels of his hands into his eyelids, before feeling a broad arm slip around his tiny waist.

Assuming it was the guard who had made the smart remark earlier, he said softly (in a deadly way, to those who knew him well enough- he most certainly was not in the mood for horse play at the moment) "Denmark, would you please remove your arm from my waist?"

"No. Y'r m' wife. 'nd y' looked a b't d'wn. 'nythin' I c'n do?"

"Su-san," breathed Finland in relief, and as an afterthought, "I'm not your wife."

"Y' didn' 'nsw'r m' question, wifey," grunted Sweden in reply.

Sighing again, Tino looked up exasperatedly at his so-called 'husband,' and after a second of hesitation, decided to explain his rather unfortunate situation. What harm could it do? He was stressed enough, and perhaps an explanation would calm him down.

But for the second time in a 5-minute time span, he was cut off before he could even begin.

"Didn' g't t' t'll h'm d'd y'?"

Blinking rapidly in surprise, Tino nodded. For some reason, the squeezing of his side and the calmness in his companion's voice was making the worry ebb away, he vaguely wondered why that was.

"M'ght 'swell s'nd th' g'rds 'fter h'm. 'greed?"

Lightheaded from the new feeling of confusing relaxation in Berwald's arms, Finland nodded once more.

"We can only hope," Finland said timidly after a short and comfortable silence (in which Finland shook his head to rid it of airiness), "that our King does not get himself killed by a loony," and at his own words, he felt his heart race. Would he get killed? By the description the Princess Party gave... and the looks on their faces... Also, a loony with a gun did not make a good combination with an arrogant unrelenting prude. Who would no doubt march right up to the house and.... and...

Finland gulped.

"'m sure h'll be f'ne, Tino, relax," no doubt sensing his discomfort, he removed the hand around Tino's waist and started rubbing his back comfortingly.

"But-" began Finland- voice rising in pitch, already worrying himself into a panic at the chance of the king dying. He may be arrogant, but he would miss the fool. Plus it would be a lotta trouble for Finland. But it was mostly the first reason. Maybe.

"Relax," said Sweden, oddly clear of grunts- and as he said it, he spun his Finnish self-proclaimed 'wife' into a tight hug, resting his cheek on the white hat that the cutie always seemed to sport.

Stiff for only a second, Finland snuggled his head into the chest of the taller male.

"Alright. Now you get the guards and I'll send a letter to the Princess Party. ...Though they're probably drunk off their faces right now- it's how they celebrate, you know," it was only muffled a teensy bit by the shirt he had burrowed into.

Chuckling, Sweden kissed the hat he had his cheek resting on.

"I kn'w."

A few moments of calm quiet later, Sweden released Finland and held his shoulders for a moment, leaning down and examining his eyes for any sign of stress. Upon finding none, he smiled the smallest and most genuine of smiles, and kissed the now blushing Tino on the forehead. Neither said anything for a bit, Sweden putting as much feeling into the kiss as possible, and Tino trying to engrave this moment in his mind forever.

It was absolutely perfect.

"HEYYY GU- Whoa-ho-HO. What do we have HERE?"

The two broke apart and the taller male's eye twitched slightly.

"Denmark," said Finland, "what a... _pleasant _surprise!" '_Foul little cockroach, I'll feed him England's cooking. Trust Denmark to ruin such a perfect moment. I swear I'll rip off his b-'_ And as he thought all this, he glared menacingly at his feet.

Sweden almost chuckled at the sarcasm in Finland's voice and the absolutely adorable look he had when brooding.

But Denmark, mistaking it as genuine shyness, marched right on up to Tino in all his golden-armored glory and flung his arms around the now flailing boy, bellowing, "I LOVE YOU, TOO, TINO!"

The next thing he knew he was stuck in a trash can near the kitchens, watching Sweden's back as he attempted in vain to free himself from the waste basket. Eventually giving up long enough to pout at the man who was stalking away from the scene of the crime. But Denmark, being Denmark, smiled soon after. Optimism returning ten-fold.

_'Maybe that new guy will be more fun to tease...'_

Finland straightened his hat once more, and commenced the writing of the letter to the Princess Party in his tiny, yet accommodating office.

Not before he looked back into their research, however, splaying out all the fuzzy pictures and background information on his small wooden desk. Sifting through the papers, he found the photograph he was looking for.

Sighing, he forgot about the letter for a moment and leaned back in his chair, folding one arm across his chest and scrutinizing the picture underneath his fingertips.

"I swear, if he gets killed..." said Finland in a would-be menacing tone, if it wasn't laced with worry. If that Prussia got killed... he would most likely blame himself for it. And though he was a bit... unbearable at times. He was a great ruler, and there was most definitely _no one _like him. If that insane gunsman did anything to Prussia.... Those idiots from the Princess Party.... freakin' incompetent guards.... Why did everything always have to stack one on top of another, all at _once_?

For the first time in his entire life, Finland saw red.

He gave in to the sudden rage, and unrestrained, Finland began having a mini-tantrum in his office- as destructive as any small Finnish boy could be (not much, mind you).

A little later, when Berwald came in to calm Finland down in the most persuasive (yet questionable) of ways, a photograph lay torn beyond repair on the floor of the slightly disorganized room (slightly because all that Finland managed to do was throw a few papers around, turn over the waste basket, and rip up that photo. With difficulty, mind you).

The picture on the ground had up until recently held a furious-looking blonde with a gun pointed straight at the photographer from a second story window.

But Finland need not worry about Prussia seeing the picture.

Because, at that moment, he was seeing it in much higher quality.

* * *

**ALOON: (Author's Lazy and Odd Obligatory Notes)  
**

SO. LIKE? HATE? RANT, GO KILL YOURSELF?

Yeah. Well. This was just in my head for awhile. And I got it down FINALLY. I have lots of ideas, though I still don't know if I'm going to complete this or not.

SOES I LOVE YOU GUYS.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING.

By the way, my laptop is broken, and I'm writing this on my family's computer. LolIhopenoonereadsit.

Enjoy your SuFin. ENJOY IT.

**Questions: **WHO IS THIS MYSTERIOUS NEW PERSON THAT DENMARK MENTIONED?

WHO IS IN THE PRINCESS PARTY?

WHO IS THE PRINCESS?

AND WHO THE HECK IS THAT MYSTERIOUS GUNSMAN I GO ON AND ON ABOUT?! HM, I WONDER.

Feel free to answer these in your reviews. IF YOU EVEN REVIEW. /cry

SEE YOU NEXT CHAPTER OR NOT.

P.S. I SUCK AT SWEDEN'S GRUNTING. HELP?

P.S.S. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT HAS ANYONE EVER SEEN THE SECOND SHIPPUDEN MOVIE, BONDS? IT'S THE SHIT. GO WATCH IT. I ALMOST DIED OF AWESOME.

Yes.


	2. Just Too Awesome

SECOND CHAPTER, WOO.

I'm really excited that I actually got reviews for this story, considering the pairing is so under-appreciated!

I actually go through the re-read and re-write process for this story- which I never do for any of my stories- because I really want other people to like this pairing, too. AND I SWEAR I WILL MAKE YOU LIKE IT.

ALRIGHT. Pairings so far: SUFIN...

...Lol.

You can thank** Tallisa of Swallow's Crest **for this chapter. SHE HAS A PRUSSIASWITZ FIC TOO. It is LOVE.

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**I'll be the Princess, You can be Target Practice**

_Chapter 2: Just Too Awesome_

_

* * *

_

"State your business!"

"Be my awesome wife!"

...."WH-WH-WHAT?!"

It had to have been the most ridiculous thing that the Swiss had ever heard. And believe him when he says- he's heard a _lot _of strange things, considering who he had once dated… but never mind that- that memory is WAY too painful.

"I _said,_" reiterated Prussia slowly, puffing out his chest and smiling arrogantly up at the beautiful princess, "be my wife!"

The irate blonde twitched, flushing ever-so-slightly and gripping the gun tighter. "As if!" He yelled back, glaring at the overly-cocky albino that had trespassed onto his property.

Why he hadn't just told the pest that he was a guy was beyond him.

"You are fit to be my wife! And seeing as you'd get married to the awesome me, what is there to refuse?"

A shot fired right past the smirking Prussia's face.

"Everything." Switzerland stated simply, blowing smoke off his gun and standing up straight. His cool composure was lost, however, when he saw that the pest's smile had gotten impossibly larger.

"I like 'em feisty!"

Switzerland's face turned an ill-fitting yet oddly attractive shade of red, he watched almost desperately as the prude walked tantalizingly slow in his direction. Easily flustered as he was, he did the only thing he knew how- he started firing shots at random at the very persistent intruder. The latter was walking straight toward the window where the increasingly distraught Swiss man stood, taking slow, sweeping strides to get there. The most fitting walk for a king if Prussia did say so himself. The Swiss, however, in his state of growing incredulity, thought he looked quite like a peacock.

A peacock with an incredibly annoying cocky smile.

"GET OFF MY LAWN, DAMMIT!" screamed the Swiss, face as red as a tomato in undeniable anger (or so he says _-shot-_). "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! I'LL BLOW OFF YOUR HEAD!" _Why.. no, _how _am I missing him? I NEVER miss! I'm like freaking JAMES BOND. _

The fact that Switzerland thought of himself as a fictional British spy is a fact that will never be uttered aloud. Ever. Under penalty of death.

The albino loomed ever closer to his personal bubble.

His heart hammered heavily in his uniform-clad chest, and his palms were unexpectedly sweaty underneath his gloves. Oh wait, wait, WAIT.

Was he... God forbid... _threatened _by the albino's encroaching presence?

NO. Definitely not! He was James friggin' BOND! Threatened by no one, loved by all women!

It was then that the Swiss vaguely started wondering when he developed a psycho alter-ego named 'James Bond.' More accurately, he wondered why he had a sick obsession directed at James Bond.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand.

The blonde was usually spot-on target when he meant to shoot someone, so why on Earth was he not hitting the mark? He could shoot a target from a mile away! This guy was less than TEN YARDS from him. Maybe the blonde needed glasses?

No, no, no. He had always had perfect vision. And so the flurry of bullets continued. His screams of indignant rage only seemed to fuel the ever-present smirk on the bastard's face. Switzerland decided that the look was one of someone completely evil.

An evil that must be EXTERMINATED.

Uh oh, James Bond, now the Terminator? What's next, Chuck Norris?

Switzerland discerned that he was fighting a losing battle with sanity, so he decided to just go wherever his thoughts took him. Which was a very, very odd place. It was like someone had taken a Beatles' song and combined it with frustration-induced rage and an overdose of sixteen kinds of crazy. The result was not very pretty.

He hadn't even realized he stopped shooting until the albino cast a smirk in his direction, chin tilted high and eyes sparkling malevolently- making the blonde cast all thoughts of British spies, pools of lava, and Lucy in the sky with diamonds gratefully aside.

"Listen," the albino started in a would-be convincing tone, but it was ruined by the awfully conniving smirk on his face, "I'm awesome, you're pretty. I'm a king, you're a princess. It just _fits. _So how about you just jump down from that window and into the strong, muscular arms of your future lover. Need further convincing? Well, from the moment I laid eyes on you I knew that we_-_"

Switzerland, who was not only mentally preparing himself for a cheesy attempt at poetry but also re-loading his machine gun, paused in his ministrations to see what had made the strange man shut up. If it was a person, he'd thank them until the end of time, if it was an animal, he'd keep it as a pet and love it forever and ever, if it was a thing, he'd sleep with it in his bed at night. Anyone who got that idiot of an intruder to silence himself was a winner in his book.

However, his eyes landed not upon a person, animal, or thing. No, they landed wide-eyed on a falling Prussian- who somehow managed to make his awkward descent to the ground look graceful.

Switzerland watched in rapt silence as blood pooled around the now-quiet idiot, staining his perfectly green lawn.

So he _had _been shooting him. Huh.

…

…

"SHIT!" bellowed Switzerland, hopping the window sill and sprinting straight toward the fallen dumbass when he landed.

If this albino died on his property, what kind of paperwork would he be forced to deal with?!

They would take away his precious Zurich for sure!

That would not bode well for his British spy fantasies. Not well at all.

* * *

"SONUVAB-!"

"C'lm d'wn! We s'nt th' guards, h'll be f'ne."

"That's not it. I stubbed my toe!"

The Finnish boy caressed the inflicted region while the Swedish male went to get the first aid kit.

"'f ya h'd be'n watchin' wh're ya w're goin'...."

"I just have a bad feeling, alright? And I pace when I have a bad feeling. It's not my fault," and with that said, Tino pouted at the floor. And unbeknown to him, received a look of adoration from the older man in the room.

Berwald, otherwise known as Sweden, knelt before the younger male, taking the injured ankle gently in one hand and wrapping a fair amount of gauze around it. Finland blushed throughout the entire process.

Once Sweden was satisfied, the bandage looked like a growth on Tino's ankle more than a bandage. He wobbled slightly as he put weight on it, and pulled it back up.

"Uh… Su-san…"

Berwald grunted.

"Thanks but… I can't walk."

Wrong choice of words there, Finny.

Tino squeaked as he was swept- literally- off his feet, now being cradled like an overgrown baby in Berwald's massive arms.

"BERWA-"

"HELLOO MY FRIENDS! Iceland helped me outta that trash can! You can't get rid of me, better luck next time!"

Denmark entered Finland's room with a swoosh, bang, and a grin- and before either could question why the hell _Iceland _had helped him, he cheerfully said, "SO. When do I get to meet this adorable newcomer? Has he arrived yet?"

An eerie silence raked over the room at his words, as a look of dawning spread across Finland's face. Finland opened his mouth, prepared to say something, when-

"AAAAAAARRRRRGHHHH!"

"FUCK."

"HIEEEEEEE!"

"MMMPHH!"

The distant shouts echoed against the walls of the corridor- and a look of complete horror spread across the small boy's features, as he muttered, "Denmark…"

Almost missing his words, Denmark managed a, "huh?" of complete awe.

"…Did Iceland mention anything about the Princess Party coming back?"

Scratching the back of his head and looking to the side, suddenly feeling awkward, Denmark murmured a, "…Might've mentioned it…"

In a flourish, Finland's hat was off and beating against Sweden's chest violently.

"MUSH, GOSH DARNIT!"

And so Sweden sprinted at top speed from the room, cradling Finland like a lacrosse player would a lacrosse ball.

"Where do you think it came from?" asked the lacrosse ball earnestly, cupping his ears to catch any further sound.

"D-"

"Oh thank GODS. Finland!"

"Poland!" said Tino breathlessly, shocked at his cook's rather… _odd _appearance.

He was sporting a lopsided chef's hat, a red-stained apron that looked suspiciously like blood splatter, and most peculiar of all- was covered head to toe in bubbles.

"Ok! I was like, killing a pig for dinner, right? In the kitchen, right? Well, like, I normally don't do it in the kitchen. But like, I didn't feel like going into the butcher's room! It's all bloody and guh-ross in there! I mean, have you flipping _smelled _that place? It's totally-!"

"As much as I'd like to hear about your slaughtering escapades," said Finland- who was becoming a bit finicky in Sweden's arms, "could you please tell us what those screams were?"

"Well, like, the Princess Party came home at the same time that the new kid arrived-"

"Oh _no._"

"Oh _yes. _Maybe I should just, like, show you."

So the unlikely pair followed the valley girl blonde man down the hallway and toward the East Hall kitchen.

It was then that Finland heard a foreboding rumbling sound at the far end of the hallway- moving quickly toward them.

"GET OUTTA THE WAY. OUTTA THE WAY. MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

They had only gotten halfway down the passage, when hurdling toward came none other than the infamous Princess Party themselves- along with two others. All of them were underdressed, the unconscious boy slung over the tallest one's shoulder had no shirt on AND no pants, and the laughing one of the group was carrying a distraught Iceland in his arms. Every single one of them was soaked head to toe in soap bubbles.

But Poland, Sweden, and Finland barely saw the four who were barreling hopelessly towards them.

They were too focused on the giant wave of lavender-scented bubbly horror that licked the heels of the quartet.

"MUSH," screamed Finland- hitting Sweden with his hat.

* * *

"Mmm… lavender."

Switzerland breathed in the smell of the candles in content, relaxing and closing his eyes. He had tended to the damn albino nearly all night and morning- to no avail, it seemed. He still refused to open his eyes. This, for some reason, worried Vash.

No, no, no. Not worry. It was a simple tug of the heartstrings… Like seeing him hurt like this made _him _hurt, t-

He promptly stuffed his head under the water.

After Vash had come quite close to drowning himself, he relaxed against the tub once more- relishing the lavender candles that surrounded the pale bath- the steam that clogged his senses was like bliss, and the warm water caressing him like a blanket was welcoming him to sleep…

"I SENSE DANGER."

The door to the bathroom was kicked open.

Switzerland jumped about twenty feet in the air, landing with a splash in the bubbles of his bath.

He came up from the water, indignantly spewing bubbles and flushing a furious red.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN MY BATHROOM?!" screamed Switzerland, gun materializing out of nowhere and pointing straight at the King.

"Oh, sorry~"

He certainly didn't look sorry.

And he really wasn't.

Prussia had just walked into one of the most sexiest scenes he had ever had the privilege of witnessing, aside from looking at himself in the mirror, that is.. A blushing virgin, a candlelit bubble bath, a NAKED virgin. Oh, the possibilities!

"Get out!" came the stern voice of the adorable blonde from the tub, jabbing a pale arm at the door behind Prussia.

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I'm bleeding again?"

And he lifted his shirt, cheerily smiling, to reveal blood pouring profusely from re-opened wounds.

"YOU'RE AN ABSOLUTE IMBECILE. GET BACK TO BED. NOW. I'll get the first aid kit, you just lie down and work on stopping the bleeding! GOT THAT?"

The frantic blonde stood from her bath and oh my cow-milking farmer what is THAT between her… his.. IDUNNO!

Oh me, oh my.

Looks like he had found the reason why he liked none of the other princesses.

Well, besides the fact that he was too awesome for them.

He resolved (and the cute scowl sent his way from a blonde wrapping a towel around _his _waist only strengthened this resolve) to take a chance with this wild human being- who was, admittedly, unlike any other person he'd ever met.

Gun-crazed, easily embarrassed, short temper, tries to act stern, stubborn, and downright adorable to boot. Oh, don't forget batshit insane. Despite all this- soft and caring. What a sad, strange little man.

_This _was his type? Really? What, was he the Buzz Lightyear to this blonde's Woody?

He only just managed to stifle a snort of pure perversion.

Add that to the list of reasons why he hadn't chosen any of the previous princesses to marry, none of them filled the necessary profile.

As the small hands pressed into his back, urging him to return to his sick bed- King Prussia smiled, not smirked, actually smiled.

Yes, this blonde would be his and his alone.

Homosexual kings? Who cares! He would break free of the stereotypical barriers as he had so often done before!

He would woo this prince into utter submission, the blonde would become putty in his hands- surely!

A plan hatched in the very back of Prussia's devious mind- rusty cogs working ceaselessly as the grin turned Cheshire. Only an awesome person of his caliber could execute a plan of such epic proportions. But he'd be damned if he didn't go through with it.

Too awesome to give up the challenge that took the form of a chibi blonde boy.

Too awesome to deny himself the chance at the best scheme he's ever cooked up.

Too awesome to not win over the blonde with his devilishly good looks.

All in all...

Gilbert Beilschmidt was just too awesome.

* * *

**ALOON:**

AHHH! **Tallisa of Swallow's Crest!** You talked about me in your absolutely AMAZING SwitzPrussia fic! Don't point toward me, you're TONS better than me! TONSSS!

So **–points back in Tallisa's direction- **GO READ HER STUFF NOW.

ANYWAY. Anyone have a theory on how that bubble incident happened? Huh? Huhhh?

Still haven't revealed the identity of the Princess Party, though I think this chapter made it blatantly obvious.

Ah, well. We're getting to more pairings! Soon! Maybe! Yeah! Ehe… ehehehe….

/shot

This was supposed to be humorous. I probably failed miserably.

And you know how I said I had a lot of ideas?

Well I threw them all out the window, and so emerged this!

Right. Don't expect another update soon. I LOVE YOU ALL, BUT SCHOOL HATES ME.

Thanks for reading~

**Questions for my Amusement and Possibly Yours: **

Who did Vash once date?

What the Hell happened at Prussia's palace?

Who is in the Princess Party?

And finally: What the FRIGGIN' IHOP PANCAKES is up with Switzerland's obsession with James Bond? I have no idea.

(The Prussia and Switz part at the end was purely for my own amusement. Ignore it, if you must.)


	3. Of Bushy Brows and Kidnapped Twins

Hooray for not being e-mailed my reviews! No, really.

:l

I suppose it's not a good idea to post on Mondays? Or maybe this story actually SUCKS and I haven't realized it yet. Ah, well. I WILL CONTINUE PAINSTAKINGLY ON WITH THIS PAIRING UNTIL I FEEL SATISFIED.

'Til then, readers, you're screwed.

Pairings so far: PrussiaSwitz, SuFin…

Yes.

Enjoy, I guess~

**IMPORTANT NOTE: For those of you who are only here for the PrussiaSwitz, I really don't think it matters if you skip this chapter, this is like my minor-character-development chapter because I absolutely neeeed side pairings, no matter what. Feel free to skip it, because next chapter will be entirely PrussiaSwitz centric! Hoorah! And this chapter doesn't matter IMO.  
**

* * *

**I'll be the Princess, You can be Target Practice**

_Chapter 3: Of Bushy Brows and Kidnapped Twins

* * *

_

"He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me, he's going to kill me."

Tino continued this chant, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth on the soggy grounds around the castle.

"R'lax, wouldn't l't h'm touch m' wife."

Finland continued with his mantra.

The newcomer glanced around at his new co-workers with a kind of sickened air, because quite frankly, working with these people would nauseate him-he knew it. He had just recently recovered from his fainting spell, and was now sitting alone in his boxers too early in the morning. He was tired, hungry, and above all, pissed off. And it was the fault of two complete idiots.

Glaring daggers at a certain blonde and Spaniard, he swore vengeance of the utmost cruelty.

No one knocked Norway unconscious and got away with it- no one!

Meanwhile, the two members of the Princess Party were wringing out their sopping clothes while standing in just their underwear. For one- a speedo. For the other- boxers covered in tomatoes.

"I think Prussia will like what we've done with the place," said the Spaniard happily- shaking his white, baggy shirt in an attempt to get out any water he may have missed.

"Who cares about that?" Replied his blonde companion, he clasped his hands together and turned to the brunette- abandoning his blue pants for a moment, "did you see that cute little biscuit with the hair clips? I could just eat him right up!"

"Aha!" Laughed his friend, slipping the shirt back on with ease and turning to meet the Frenchman's gaze. "You try it, Iceland seems a bit protective of him, though!"

"Ehh?" France looked utterly put-off by this, and the hearts in his eyes all but disintegrated. "They've known each other for a few hours, how can that be?"

"Hm, dunno, but they seem to be getting along real well, look!"

They turned to see a fully-clothed but dripping wet Iceland pin an angry and nearly naked Norwegian to the grass.

France's nose spouted blood like a geyser while Spain laughed like all was right with the world.

A few yards away, Poland was pouting and glaring at the distraught Finnish boy, who was still rocking himself back and forth on the dewy front lawns. The taller Swedish male tried to calm him down, but all of his advances were stopped short by his lover. It was about this time when Poland decided something more effective had to be done.

So he took off his chef's hat, stomped up to Finland, and started hitting him round the head with his prized cap.

"Ow ow ow! Feliks, what are you doing?!" his small arms lifted to protect himself from the wrath of the cook.

"What am I doing? What are you doing!" he continued the ruthless attack, "you know, like, Prussia will be back soon, right? Not only that, but aren't people, like, stuck inside? I don't know where Denmark is, and shouldn't someone, like, get Prince Ludwig or something? You're being totally un-fabulous right now!" Poland pulled his hat back, and crossed his arms, glaring at the small boy. When Finland did nothing but work his jaw at him, Feliks frowned, and remembered something. "Don't you have a _son _in the-?"

Finland leapt up, eyes widening to comical proportions.

"OH MY GOD, PETER!"

Berwald shot past the pair and toward the castle like a rocket, Finland was about to follow when a hand clamped down on his wrist.

"Orders, Finny?"

"R-Right!" said Tino, shaken and looking fearful. "Norway! Iceland! Come with me to help find Denmark and Peter! All of the other guards are gone, so those are the only two we must find! Princess Party and Poland, you go and-"

"AMERICA, THE HERO!"

Finland trailed off, as all eyes fell upon a posing blonde not far from their group- beside him was a male with the largest eyebrows that anyone had ever seen, his face lit up like a light bulb, only redder.

They were covered in ashes and dressed in scorched tuxedos. But upon further inspection…

It was noted the two were shamelessly holding hands.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince- beautiful blonde locks billowing lustfully in the wind. No man nor woman could resist his unearthly charm, except for one simple peasant. Alas, the prince hated this peasant with all the passion he could muster- so it mattered not. Anyway, onto the prince's _perfect _body-

"BULLSHIT!"

The exclamation was poorly covered with a cough.

"Excuse me, Alfred? Do you have something against my stories?" A blonde queried in a purely British accent, quirking a magnificently thick eyebrow in the process.

"Well, yeah," said his companion, scratching the back of his neck idly, "where is all the action, the villains, the heroes? Like me!"

"Oh come off it," scoffed the elder blonde, crossing his arms and glaring daggers at the dirt path- he'd been dealing with this blonde nuisance for far too long, and honest to God after being alone with the same annoying person for an extended amount of time you begin to lose your sanity. England figured he'd lost around the last bend, when America started singing 'Just Around the Riverbend,' in an off-key imitation of Pocahontas.

All thoughts of Indians and raccoons were dashed as soon as his eyes settled upon a giant fuzzy caterpillar in their way. He frowned at it, it looked vaguely familiar- he just couldn't put his finger to it…

"Hey, Iggy, that looks like one of your eyebrows!" The other blonde exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing at it just as energetically.

The male deemed 'Iggy' twitched involuntarily.

"Sod off, Alfred!"

As much as he fought it, it still appeared.

He pouted.

"Aww, my Iggy-poo, did I upset you?"

The other grumbled in response, glaring hard at his now-dusty black shoes.

"I'm sorry, Artie!" yelled the louder male, turning and enveloping the smaller in surprisingly strong arms.

Cue tomato-faced Brit.

"Let me down, you bloody git!" squawked England, struggling to get his arms free and trying fruitlessly to lower the temperature in his face.

"Why should I~" came the cheery reply.

England felt like kneeing the boy in a very unholy place.

" Because it's your fault we're in this whole mess!" said Iggy, resentful and flushed. Admittedly, he was losing feeling in his hands from the blood flow constraint- so he'd say just about anything right now that would get the American off while _still _maintaining his pride. His options were few.

"Nufufu! I think not, Iggy! YOU were driving, remember?"

"And YOU chose to throw a spider at me while I was doing so. Seriously, America? Who _enjoys _having spiders thrown at them?"

America seemed to seriously contemplate this for a moment.

"Wilbur."

…

"I suppose…"

Alfred released his older 'friend' from the death grip he had on him, and continued walking like nothing had even transpired. Arthur trudged unhappily after the ever-optimistic blonde, wondering with all his heart why he didn't just up and ditch the annoying brat with the hero-complex.

A heavy silence followed, in which Arthur frowned at the now rocky turf and contemplated hanging himself from a tree by his pants or just kicking the other blonde in his jewels and hightailing it down the road. Unaware of his partner's depressing inner struggle, America smiled happily and examined the trees and birds and sky and giant looming castle half-covered in bubbles…

Wait, what?

The American gasped, childish delight filling in every crevice of his young face and an ecstatic smile splitting his features.

"Iggy, look, look, LOOK!" yelped Alfred, jumping up and down, tugging on England's sleeve, and pointing at the giant castle all at once.

England shot a sharp look at America, shaken from his suicidal thoughts and generally pissed off at the other blonde who was wearily prone to juvenile-attacks, "would you _please _stop acting like a five-year-" Arthur looked up to humor the boy, and "oooohh my gosh."

Arthur stared in complete awe at the bubbly building, allowing himself to get dragged through the thick forest toward it by an over-zealous American- too stunned to move his own legs.

"And there will be heroes, all around, cleaning up the giant mess that the soap-eating sofas caused! After valiantly fighting off the furniture, of course!"

England listened vividly as the American BS'ed an entire story, growing more and more anxious by the second, and the castle getting closer and closer as Alfred prattled on, now with a firm grip on Arthur's hand.

Oddly enough, neither pulled away upon this revelation.

Nor did America falter in his speech.

"…but the bubble bomb that King Futon set up was too large, too strong! The clean-up requires a TRUE hero, none other then…" they burst through the last thicket of trees, "AMERICA, THE HERO!"

He threw his arm out flippantly at the end, smiling so brilliantly that his eyes closed with the effort, and giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up with the hand that wasn't occupied by Arthur's.

The latter's face reddened.

The pair received five identical blank looks-

And one torn between seething hatred and immense fear.

America cracked open an eye.

There was an awkward silence that settled between the two parties.

Someone snorted.

"What, no cape?" said a voice sarcastically, "what kind of hero are you?"

America's smile returned full-force, blinding nearly everyone in the clearing. He turned and winked at Arthur- who gave him an odd flustered look- and replied, "the fairy tale kind!"

Once upon a time, the prince hated the peasant.

Once upon a very, very different time.

* * *

"I can't believe they abandoned us."

"Oh~ They didn't _abandon _us! I'm sure they'll be back soon, brother!"

"Bullshit! I bet the two of them frolicked off to have sex in the forest."

His nearly identical brother gasped, "brother!" while his older sibling merely sniffed.

"Um, you two…" came a timid voice near to their right, both seemingly ignored it.

"I'm in a right mind to just go and find help myself!"

"Oh! Oh! We could hop from tree branch to tree branch, like in that one ninja show!"

"Guys…?"

"Hell. No. You can have fun getting a concussion, I'll just walk, thanks."

"Aww, you're no fun~"

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" whispered the ignored boy again- staring down at the two arguing (which was one-sided, really) twins before him. Both were seated on silk cushions dragged out from the burning wreckage of their carriage.

Knowing he was fighting a losing battle with their attention, he switched his gaze to the charred mass of wood that had been their transportation, and sighed.

Somehow the carriage had spontaneously combusted after hitting a tiny dip in the road.

True to his self-proclaimed nickname of 'hero,' Alfred had dragged them all out of the flames before any real harm was done. Well, mostly unharmed- their clothes had been burned off.

Luckily for the twins, that had an extra set of clothes which were generally unscathed by the inferno.

Unluckily for one of the twins, that extra set consisted of two dresses.

But at least they were _clothed._ The poor left-out blonde was in nothing but his slightly sooty underwear.

He turned his attention back to the pair, and clung to his stuffed bear tightly. Dealing with these two sure was a lot of work, and he hoped his own twin would return soon with help. Until then, they could only wait.

"Jesus, Feliciano, would you grow a pair? We are NOT going to have to 'sell our bodies' for money to get wood for the carriage! You are being an idiot!" scolded the elder, jabbing a finger into his now-sobbing counterpart's laced chest.

"But-but!" wailed Feliciano, rubbing at his eyes as tears trailed down his cheeks, "brother! What if they don't come back? I don't wanna get my dress all dirty!"

"Feliciano!" he yelled angrily, smacking his brother upside the head, which produced a new set of cries, "guys don't wear dresses in the first place! Now get off your pansy ass and start walking, we can find help ourselves!"

With this said, the older twin promptly stood up, wiped down his frilly pink dress, and started stomping off proudly in the wrong direction.

Feliciano, in the meantime, choked on the clouds of dust sent up by his brother's heeled shoes.

"W-W-Wait! Brother!" yelled the younger brother, recovering from his spluttering and reaching a hand out toward his brother desperately.

The nearly invisible blonde, in the meantime, was shouting as loud as he could for him to come back.

Sadly, for him, his shouts sound like whispers.

And he was again ignored.

'Romano,' as the blonde had called him, was a good ways away now, and just when the two he'd left behind were going to follow, there was thunder. Deafening, conspicuous thundering that shook the dirt road- and so Romano stopped.

The three waited in abstract horror as the pounding got louder and louder, and closer and closer- until finally, they spotted something in the distance.

A red and white carriage hopping wildly on the dips and rocks in the road as it was dragged violently by two huge black horses, steered by a laughing masked man, who whipped the horses every few seconds to keep them going. Upon closer inspection, he reminded the elder twin of Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon. He stood there a few moments, wondering if Sailor Moon was in the carriage behind Tuxedo Mask, when he heard his brother scream.

"HIEEE! RUN, BROTHER! YOU'RE GONNA BE RUN OVER!"

With little to no room left between he and the carriage, he promptly turned around, hiked up his dress, and ran for his life.

And he would have gotten away, too! If it weren't for those meddling heels.

The crazy man seemed to have other plans for Romano, for rather than running him over, he positioned the horses on either side of the fleeing twin and…

Romano was scooped up expertly by the driver as he overcame him- the twin struggled but the older man held fast, chuckling as insanely as ever.

"YOU'RE THE WORST TUXEDO MASK COSPLAYER EVER! LET ME GO! FELICIANO! CANADA! SAVE ME! EEEE!" the now kidnapped boy screamed, punching the older man fiercely in the chest as they neared his two only possible saviors.

Feliciano thought fast.

"PUT MY BROTHER DOWN! HE'S NO FUN TO KIDNAP, MISTER! HE-HE YELLS AND HITS YOU AND HE'S MEAN AND- AND-"

Without further ado, the carriage sped past at full speed, causing Feliciano to squeak as his pink dress flew up to reveal his lacey undergarments- meanwhile, Canada's last piece of clothing tore off.

Poor, poor Canada.

The carriage rode off into the distance, now accompanied with the screams of the other twin along with the thundering of hooves and carriage wheels and the cackling of the driver.

"HIEE! NO! GIVE BACK MY BROTHER!"

Feliciano lifted up his dress and chased after the long-gone carriage, and Canada followed slowly, covering his privies with his hands and sincerely contemplating a new job.

* * *

"GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE~"

The albino threw his arms around the smaller male's neck and dragged him down into the bed with him. There was a brief scuffle before the blonde settled.

"I-Idiot! You shouldn't be moving around so much! I just got your wounds to close!" Switzerland didn't struggle anymore, for fear of opening the wounds that he had stitched up the night before.

The King, however, translated the lack-of-opposition differently.

"Aww~! You care for me so much! Oh my darling, where have you been all my life?"

"Your sarcasm eludes me. Now let go, I have to make breakfast," he was mysteriously avoiding the other's eyes.

Gilbert thought for a moment.

"I'm hungry for Swiss blondes, got any in stock?"

"Oh, screw this!" the blonde pulled away harshly as the Prussian howled with laughter, "one more word out of you and there will be more bullets in your system than I can mend!"

"Aww, don't be like that Swissy!"

"Don't call me that! My name is Vash!"

He regretted it as soon as the last syllable had left his mouth.

"Vash…."

_Shit. _

"Vash, Vash, Vash…"

_SHIT SHIT SHIT._

"Va~sh."

_SHIIIIIIIT._

"VAAAASH-CHAAAN."

"OH SHUT UP. JUST CALL ME VASH OR I'LL PUT THIS GUN UP YOUR ASS AND SHOOT."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Vash stormed out of the room- flushed and indignant, as the albino cackled madly in his wake.

_Vash… huh? _Thought Gilbert, smirking at the door that had just been slammed. _Gonna be a challenge, are you? Well I like challenges. And once I get you back to my place my plan will commence phase one!_

_Plan: Get Switzerland to fall in love with me by exploiting the talents of my friends! _

_It's fucking foolproof!_

Or so the Prussian with the IQ of zero thought.

* * *

**ALOON: **

Man did I crank this one out fast. I wanted to get it out on Friday rather than Monday again since that's not a particularly popular posting day. Wow, alliteration fail.

Not principally sure how well this one turned out, I'm starting to fail at humor so I make unnecessary and random references.

Honestly though, Turkey reminds me of Tuxedo Mask. Don't ask why.

BUT BUT BUT-

The plot is kind of moving along! The Princess Party is finally revealed! Hoorah!

Don't worry, the next chapter is going to be PrussiaSwitz centric, rather than all these side stories. Sorry for this, I guess I have an obsession with the countless possibilities of pairings in Hetalia.

I also apologize for the Canada abuse in this chapter, he is just so fun to write- and even more fun to abuse!

**QAPY: **

What will Turkey do with Romano?

What will become of Canada and Feliciano?

What will happen at Prussia's place?

Where are Denmark and Peter, and who will find them?!

What does Canada have to do with the two Vargas twins?

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR THE HORRIFYING CONCLUSION.

Yeah, not really. But feel free to read next week anyway, if I have a chapter up that soon.


	4. My Awesomeness Knows No Bounds

Fuuuuu okay. **I'M SO SORRY FOR THE SLOW UPDATE, KAY? I HATE MYSELF.**

I typed this chapter for Joey who unknowingly read my story and was like 'WAIT WHO WROTE THIS OMG WHOAAA' and IM'd me about it nearly giving me a freaking heart attack. Don't read my stuff without telling me, woman. ;c And she's been bothering me about this for MONTHS AND MONTHS AND MONTHS, so you can't blame her this time.

This chapter is kind of really, really long to make up for my unexcused absence.

Seriously, if all of you wonderful people are still following this, you're awesome.

On that note, thank you SO MUCH for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! You're all AMAZING! I don't deserve your affections. Really. *SHAME*

By the way, **Tristana**, you're full of win. I have no idea if I responded to your reviews, but holy shit, I love you. And if you're still reading this after like 3 or 4 months (no idea) of no updates, I love you even more.

Note: The entire chapter is in **PRUSSIA'S PoV! **Please tell me how I did with it. c: (And I think I'm going to be saying 'awesome' for the rest of my life...)

* * *

**I'll Be the Princess, You can be Target Practice**

_Chapter 4: My Awesomeness Knows No Bounds

* * *

_

**The Awesome Me Diaries:**

Sup diary

You remember that cute blonde boy, right? OF COURSE YOU DO, I've only been talking about him for the past FIVE ENTRIES!

Right, so, my plan to woo him isn't working out so well. I planned to get him to like me enough to somehow coax him to come back to the palace with me but... well... he doesn't seem to... want my awesomeness.

I KNOW! Can you BELIEVE that? Maybe I like him because of the challenge he's posing, because man, I AM ONE SEXY PIECE OF ASS, LET ME TELL YOU. I MEAN, YOU'D HAVE TO LACK HORMONES IF YOU WEREN'T ATTRACTED TO MY FINE BODY.

ANYWAY, this sexyfine man has to make his way down to the kitchen, where my awesome future wife is making my breakfast.

Mmm, wifey...

Vash Beilshcmidt. Sounds awesome, AM I RIGHT OR AM I RIGHT?

Oh who am I kidding, I'M ALWAYS RIGHT.

Alright so when I get down to the kitchen, this is what I'll do:

A: Sneak up behind the cooking Vashilicious man.

B: Hug Vashilicious from behind.

C: Invade his vital regions.

D: Whisper awesome things about my 5 meters into his ear.

E: Pick his blushing virgin self up and WHISK HIM AWAY TO THE NEAREST BEDROOM.

FUCKING FLAWLESS.

I'll return again diary, since I know you're DYING to know how this turns out.

With love,

Your Awesome King of Awesomely Awesome Awesomeness,  
Prussia

* * *

I sighed airily and shut my Awesome Me Diary, stowing the miniature notebook into my key hiding place: my shoe.

If things worked out as planned today, things would be beyond awesome. Like... SUPER awesome! Or even moderately close to MY level of awesome!

I made my way toward the door, smirking happily as I went.

Yep, today was going to be Vashtastic.

See what I did there?

KESESESESE I crack myself up.

I wandered aimlessly down the many halls of the house. The reason I call this a house, and _not _a castle (because I'm not gonna lie, from all the hallways I've seen this place is _HUGE_) is because nothing I've seen so far carries the extravagance like the things at my palace do- nothing showy or anything.

Yeah, shocked? I USED A BIG WORD.

BASK IN THE GLORY OF MY AWESOME VOCABULARY. BASK IN IT.

Though you should know, despite my outward appearance of an ill-mannered, arrogant prat- I am pretty well-versed and literate which comes from my training as King back when Germania wa-

OH MY GOD SHINY THING!

… Aww false alarm.

Damn reflections of sunlight off windows.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm on the second floor. Judging from the fact that when I look out a window I only see the branches of trees. Yeah, and I haven't come across a stair case yet. Or the kitchen. Or any other person for that matter.

You'd think a house of this size would need a few maids and butlers to clean, but this place is pretty tidy- so despite not having seen one person since venturing from the room, I'm assuming they're all at breakfast.

Or lunch. I have no idea what time it is.

My stomach growled, signifying that I am very un-awesomely hungry, and still I caught no whiff of food nor the sound of the clattering of utensils or plates.

If I was any other person, I'd feel disheartened by the huge house and my growing need of food.

BUT I AM KING PRUSSIA. I DO NOT GIVE INTO TO THE FEEBLE WHINES OF THAT CUMBERSOME THING CALLED 'HUNGER,' I DO NOT GIVE UP WHEN I KNOW I AM MERE SECONDS AWAY FROM DISCOVERING THAT DELECTABLE BLONDE VIRGIN COOKING IN A PINK APRON IN THE KITCHEN. NAY. I PERSEVERE. AND I WILL FIND THAT KITCH-

OH!

I smell WAFFLES.

MY JAILBAIT SENSES ARE TINGLING.

I paused mid-stride, spun on my heel, and headed toward the delicious aroma of waffles- which appeared to be wafting tauntingly from the doorway at the end of the corridor.

And what's that I hear?

D'aww, my Vashy-poo is humming! He better have an apron on, too.

A smile and a kiss on the cheek would also be nice.

...

Nothing is impossible for me. Don't look at me like that.

I paused outside the door- and recited my plans from this morning in my head.

Okay so-

-Slam the door open to get attention.

-Delight in the sight of Vash in an apron.

-Seize vital regions. Subtly.

-GETTING IT ON ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER.

Alright it might not have went exactly like that but this plan was better anyway.

Step 1- COMMENCE!

I took a deep breath, plastered a huge smile on my face- anticipating an apron-clad and blushing blonde when I burst through the door- and finally, kicked the door open with so much force that it slammed against the opposite wall, rebounded, and smacked me right in the face.

I, of course, have awesome reflexes. However, these reflexes are trained to stop HUMAN movement, not insane bouncing doors from Hell. I swear, if that was a human, I would have been fine.

And I wouldn't have landed painfully on my back in the corridor.

The next things to occur were kind of a blur- partly because I had slammed my head into the floor and now I was having trouble seeing and partly because my nose was bleeding ALL OVER THE PLACE like it was a freaking geyser gushing water. The metallic taste in my mouth went ignored for the time being.

I DO know that I heard very high-pitched shrieking, the breaking of glass, and someone running around the kitchen frantically. When my vision finally swam back into view, I saw an ANGEL.

Or it was Vash.

Possibly both.

Vash was busying himself with cleaning up the blood on my face with a dish rag, emitting high squeals of 'are you okay?'s and 'does this hurt?'s occasionally.

Of course, none of this mattered.

Because obviously this Vash was not Vash. I mean, he looks like Vash but the voice is too high and the personality is WAY off. This Vash looked like a frightened baby kitten.

The REAL Vash looks like a SEXY baby kitten. A very tsundere, gun-crazed, sexy baby kitten. And that's what makes him so ADORABLY UNRESISTABLE and awesome. Just not my level of awesome.

After I realized that I'd been quiet for awhile (distracted by images of Vash as a half-cat) I spoke up again- voicing the only thing that really mattered to me right then- more than the blood spouting from my nose and the possibility of re-opened gun wounds in my chest.

"Who are you and where is Vash?"

I hadn't MEANT to startle the poor boy- REALLY. But not-Vash jumped like TWENTY FEET IN THE AIR and backed up so far that I couldn't see him without raising my head from the ground- which hurt like Hell, so of course I wouldn't do that. I'M NOT MASOCHISTIC, JUST AWESOME.

After a few moments of silence, I felt around the floor blindly for a few moments, took up the abandoned and already extremely bloody rag and dabbed at my own nose with it. If that not-Vash person didn't want to answer, that was fine by me. It would just give me a reason to track Vash down later and pry information out of him and seize his vital regions simultaneously.

"You're Gilbert, right?" Came a timid voice from across the room. "King Gilbert?"

I silently cursed.

Now I needed a new reason to stalk Vash if this annoying wannabe was going to talk.

"Yes," I answered gruffly. "And that's 'Your Awesomeness' to you."

It was silent for a few more seconds before not-Vash spoke again.

"I-I'm Liechtenstein. Princess Liectenstein. Switzerland is my big brother," stated the blonde hesitantly.

Wait.

WAIT.

WAAAAIT.

I shot up into a sitting position, I mean, not the smartest thing to do but hey, OH MY GOD MOMENT RIGHT NOW.

As expected, my head throbbed insanely, and when I opened my mouth to speak all that came out was a groan.

There was a squeak from across the room, and as I had closed my eyes in pain, I ALMOST jumped when I felt tiny hands press the abandoned rag back to my still bloody nose.

Note the ALMOST. I don't get frightened. I'm too awesome for fear.

Wait there was a point to me sitting up...

OH SHIT. RIGHT.

"YOU!" I suddenly bellowed, causing the so-called 'Liectenstein' to squeal and fall backwards onto her back in surprise- I didn't really care, though. MY BRAIN HURTS TOO MUCH TO CARE. "YOU'RE THE PRINCESS. HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK- oh, sorry."

WHAT? It's not my fault this princess is sheltered (she winced after every curse). I shook my head to rid it of any thoughts of petty SYMPATHY, and continued my rant like I hadn't even stopped.

"So I came here, nearly got KILLED by your brother, thinking he was the princess, FELL IN LOVE WITH THE GODDAMN KID JUST TO FIND OUT THAT HE HAS A SISTER THAT'S THE REAL PRINCESS. JESUS I CAN'T MARRY A PRINCE! If he was a prince pretending to be a princess then SURE I could but my brother does NOT handle gay relationships too well HOW THE HELL COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT? GAH I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN. IF HE GETS WIND THAT I'VE BEEN STUCK IN HERE HE'LL SURELY SEND GUARDS AND FUCK HE'LL FIND OUT VASH'S TRUE IDENTITY AND WE'LL NEVER GET MARRIED AND HAVE 37 CHILDREN AND GOD DAMMIT. How the HELL could I have forgotten the strict 'no gay marriage' policy in my kingdom. OH WHO THE HELL CARES IT'S MY KINGDOM I'M CHANGING IT NO MATTER WHAT WEST SAYS, IN FACT, WHEN I SEE HIM AGAIN I SWEAR I'LL... I'll..." I paused suddenly, taking a deep breath with fist still raised and clenched in angry emphasis. I stared at it for a moment before frowning.

I blinked rapidly then, eyes widening in surprise. ...Had I been talking to myself that entire time?

Slowly, I glanced down at the princess.

Then I felt kinda bad- staring at her quivering form staring up at me with those wide, teary, emerald eyes.

Ah... If only Vash would wear such an expression...

I sighed and scratched the back of my head, unclenching my other fist and letting it fall to my side. Wishful thinking aside, this was Vash's _sister _and he would never agree to marriage if I didn't gain her approval first. Well, first impressions stick... but I guess it's not TOO late. It's NEVER too late when GILBERT IS ON THE JOB.

"Listen," I started, sounding more awkward than I felt, "I like your brother, okay? I came here to court you, and fell in love with him. Go figure." I shrugged uncomfortably, before locking eyes with her.

She stared at me, confused for a few seconds, before she brought her arm up and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. Then she did the thing I least expected.

She _smiled _at me.

"Call me Lili," she said, still quiet, but considerably happier.

I couldn't help it, I smiled back. Twice as brightly.

This is going to be legit. I have his sister's consent, now we just have to set a date for our WEDDING OF AWESOME!

"So- you like my brother, huh?" She said cheerily, propping herself up on her elbows so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to talk to me.

I nodded, still smiling blindingly.

"You're the firs- er, well.." she looked awkward for a few moments, staring at the floor and wringing her hands like she had said something wrong. "Uh... Anyway... Do you need any help courting him? He can be a bit difficult and stubborn, but I can tell he has a bit of a crush on you. Or at least he cares for you... somewhat..."

I frowned.

I mean, as much as I love hearing from a third party how Vash-chan is madly in love with me- I couldn't get past the fact that she had cut off her sentence. And then abruptly changed the subject. It was all very suspicious.

AS DENSE AS PEOPLE MAY THINK I AM, I CAN READ THE ATMOSPHERE PRETTY WELL. It comes with being the Boss.

Actually, no.

Spain is the boss, I'M THE KING.

KING OF AWESOME THAT IS.

KESESESESESE.

Okay wow what was I doing?

OHYEAH. GIRL. SUSPICIOUS. RIGHT.

"I MAY BE DENSE BUT I'M NOT STUPID! Just incredibly awesome. SO WHY DID YOU-"

"LILI!" came a booming voice, accompanied by thundering footsteps.

OH THAT'S MY LOVELY VASH-CHAN~~~ IN A FIT OF TSUNDERE RAGE, JUST HOW I LIKE HIM~

Wait.

I eyed his sister for a few seconds, pondering as the footsteps grew louder.

Hm...

Vash is protective of his sister. Sister influences Vash. Sister likes me liking Vash.

JACKPOT. THE SISTER IS THE EASIEST ROUTE INTO VASH'S PANTS.

AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO GAIN THE APPROVAL OF ANY SISTER THEN TO ACT THE GENTLEMAN.

So, taking on the role of the stodgy prince that my brother was, I stood up, bowed slightly to the blinking girl in front of me, and offered my hand, closing my eyes and inclining my head.

"M'lad-"

My eyes shot open as the color drained from my face.

Whoa... I feel whooozyyy...

The world is... spinning...

Reminds me of the Christmas party last year after about fifty-seven beers... heheh... that was a good night...

I vaguely registered a high-pitched squeal as I fell face-forward, back toward the ground.

And for a few seconds, I was out of it.

I know a lot of people think I don't have a brain, but this lightheadedness is just RIDICULOUS.

Oh, blood loss, right.

I came to when I heard the loud sound of splintering wood as the abused door made contact with the wall even MORE harshly than it had before.

I blinked a few times, only vividly aware of my surroundings, and pushed myself up on my hands and knees. Then I shook my head gruffly, trying to get the blood circulation to my brain to go faster.

It was then that I noticed the room had gone eerily quiet.

You know, one of those cheesy moments in a horror or adventure film where the explorers or the unfortunate souls say, "it's quiet...

TOO quiet..."

That kind of quiet. Where you KNOW something is coming, but you don't quite know what it is.

So finally, I decided to take in my surroundings.

The first thing I noticed were the wide, green eyes staring up from beneath me. The second thing was the murderous intent I felt behind me.

Then it hit me harder than one of that yaoi-crazed bitch's frying pans.

SHIT.

VASH.

Cautiously, I glanced over my shoulder- hoping, wishing, PRAYING that the person behind me was ANYONE BUT...

"Vash," I breathed out, "it's not what it looks like. The awesome me was just trying to help this lovely young lady u-"

"You have five seconds to run," Vash replied, shadows covering his eyes as he aimed his machine gun directly at the Prussian King.

"But, it's all a-"

"Five."

"Misunderstanding! I swear I was just-"

"Four."

"Trying to help her is all!"

"Three."

"VASH-CHAN~" I whined pathetically (wait.. me? PATHETIC? What is this nonsense!)

I flinched as a I saw a vein in his forehead pop up. (Oh, right, he's insane. I'm justified in my fear.)

"ONE."

"BIG BROTHER, WAIT!" yelped the girl beneath me.

Oh shit. Beneath me. Right.

I scrambled away from the girl and stood up, holding my hands in front of me in defeat.

Luckily, Vash had paused in his possibly homicidal assault, though his finger was resting a bit TOO comfortably on the trigger... so the danger wasn't COMPLETELY absent.

...Ladies and gentleman- I introduce to you one of the FEW PEOPLE who can scare me SHITLESS.

I saw the princess stand on her own- I would have offered her a hand up myself but Vash does not want me anywhere NEAR her, evidently. So I would just stay put for now and wait for them to talk this out.

"Big brother, really! He only tripped when he was trying to help me up!" explained Liechtenstein frantically, shifting her gaze from one person to the next worriedly.

"Why were you on the ground in the first place?" queried Switzerland monotonously, shadows still covering his eyes.

"A-ah! W-well..."

While they were exchanging petty words (I could care less, even though I'm pretty sure this could decide whether I lived or not, I was quite confident in my seduction skills, if necessary) I examined the pair. One- shorter, blushing, frantic, flustered, and above all- a girl. The other- holding a gun, looking downright frightening, and was also resonating the most murderous aura I had EVER been on the receiving end of (ignoring that Satan-woman Hungary).

And I already knew that I liked the latter better.

I mean, someone as awesome as myself is hardly ever indecisive, and from the moment I found out not-Vash was, well, _not_-Vash, I knew that I didn't just like that trigger happy fanatic for his looks.

No, the awesome me had fallen for someone- not just because of looks, but personality, as well.

The awesome me had fallen in love with that psychotic Swiss named Vash.

Ahh, Vash, how I wish I could just tie you to a bed post right now and show you my five meters.

I frowned slightly as their arguing continued, Vash's anger beginning to dissipate, _thankfully_.

Come to think of it, why was he angry in the first place?

I scratched my chin in thought.

So, he came in to me on top of Lili... Got extremely mad... Threatened to kill me...

My face brightened in AWESOME realization.

...OH MY.

COULD IT BE...?

COULD HE HAVE BEEN...

_JEALOUS?_

But of COURSE. I AM the sexiest piece of ass to ever walk this EARTH. Of COURSE one would be jealous of my pinning of another! A little voice resonated in the back of my head, sounding oddly like West, saying irately, "you're way off!"

Needless to say, I ignored this voice.

How did I not see it before! Vash is as much in love with me as I am! Only with him!

("You're still way off.")

Then I tuned back into real life, eager to plan my next awesome move to win Vash's heart even more. And get him into my pants.

"...but, Lili, he was sexually harassing you... I can't just let him off..." said a dejected-looking Switzerland, his gun lowered and his eyes looking like they should belong to a kicked puppy.

I would have sympathized with the look, had he not been giving it for completely _wrong _reasons. Such as being denied the chance to commit a homicide.

..But it was still extremely cute...

"Big brother, he's injured," Lili trudged on, ignoring (or at least trying, I obviously couldn't) the kicked puppy look. "If you injure him anymore, he'll just have to stay longer."

Switzerland groaned and dragged a hand down his face in irritation.

"Fine, HAVE IT YOUR WAY. But if he so much as TOUCHES you again, he is out of here. And I'll give him a five second head-start."

Liechtenstein sighed and nodded begrudgingly.

So he doesn't want me touching her, ay? Wants me all to himself, ay?

A devious plan hatched itself into my quick-thinking mind, as I outwardly smirked in satisfaction- deciding to act on this awesome train of thought immediately!

Well Vash, let's see how your jealousy-prone self reacts to-

-THIS!

I groped the girl's chest (wishing it was Vash) from behind, causing the other to squeal loudly and flail a bit.

"KESESESESE, VASH-CHAN. I KNOW YOUR WEAKNESS. YOU'RE JEALOUS, AREN'T YOU? JUST ADMIT IT, AND I'LL GROPE YOU JUST THE SAME," I said confidently, letting the poor girl go.

Maybe I could have thought of a better plan, I DID feel kind of bad for it. But it was necessary to get Vash to confess his DEEP, IRREVOCABLE, love for me.

What can I say? Sacrifices always must be made on the road to TRUE AWESOMENESS. Er, love, I meant love.

I nodded to myself before looking at Vash.

Then I flinched visibly.

"GET. THE. FUCK. OOOOOOOOUT." He screamed loudly, going completely Rambo and the sound of Lili's screaming was drowned out by the splintering of wood, the shattering of glass and china, and the battle cries of Switzerland.

I ran out of the chaos, relatively unharmed. And I just could not understand one thing.

_WHY?_

MY PLAN HAD BEEN ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS, RIGHT? RIGHT?

I mean he WAS jealous the first time, RIGHT? Then I was perfectly justified in assuming he would admit his jealousy the second time after I groped his sister right in front of him! That's the PERFECT way to get someone to confess... RIGHT?

("Dead wrong, yet again.")

OH, YOU SHUT UP, WEST.

The door behind me was kicked open roughly, and I once again heard the crazy (yet adorable, I think I AM masochistic) shouts of 'I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU SUNUVABITCH' and 'GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT,' accompanied, of course, by a haze of gunfire.

And as I took off running for my dear God-given life, I looked over my shoulder fondly at the rampaging blonde boy.

Ahh, these were the days we'd reminisce about with our children later in life. I couldn't wait. Gilbert and Vash Jr. Had a ring to it, right?

("Will you ever be right?")

I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP, WEST.

* * *

I had miraculously escaped outside of the property, being the awesome person I tend to be, I made it out with barely a bruise on me. Scratches, however... Well, let's just say the boy's aim isn't that bad and leave it at that. Even my awesome self can't handle my awesome future wife's self sometimes. Well, I'm not complaining. My wife DOES need to be on a level of awesomeness that I can respect, it is REQUIRED of my future spouse.

Anyway, when I had finally passed the open gates leading out of the estate, an odd sight greeted me.

My men. Toasting wurst over a dying fire. Covered in wounds.

I frowned.

"What are you guys doing?" I questioned in the only way I knew how- loudly and awesomely. I strode up to them with the airs of a true King, though I was only wearing a loose white dress shirt (which Vashy-poo had kindly washed for me) and some black pants.

If anyone else had even TRIED saying what I just said with such royal arrogance in MY outfit, they would have been laughed at until they cried.

As it stands, no matter what I look like on the outside, I will always be awesome on the inside.

So, really, it wasn't much of a surprise when all the men started, saw my face, dropped their sticks and spokes and came immediately to my side to kneel and bow their heads in respect.

Damn straight, you best recognize.

Word.

"Your Awesomeness!" Exclaimed one of the kneeling soldiers, sporting a particularly nasty injury on his left arm- even with all the bandages, the blood was still being soaked up like water with a sponge. It made my awesome self cringe a little, reminding me bitterly ONCE MORE that my new-soon-to-be wife was a TERRIBLE force to behold. "You're alright?"

I nodded in affirmation, "just a few minor scratches across the chest, nothing the awesome me can't handle."

A lot of the soldiers looked up to my awesomely toned chest in concern, but looked relieved anyway, not wanting to be held accountable by Tino after carrying their King's corpse back.

"So, I'm taking it the courting didn't go well?" One inquired curiously.

Didn't go well? Pff... WHO DID THEY THINK THEY WERE TALKING TO?

..Though I admit it didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped, it didn't go HORRIBLE. I mean, that Vash must have a semblance of caring for me, why else would he so awesomely nurse me back to health?

And no it's NOT because he was the one to injure me. Shut up. He did it out of TRUE, PASSIONATE, UNYIELDING LOVE. Oh and of course, to preserve the awesome that is me. He could sense it, I bet.

Oh shit, right, these guys asked me something.

Hm... Since it should be obvious that I wasn't... _that _successful... I can't really tell them that I was _un_successful though... that would be unkingly...

Think, Prussia, think...

WWJDD.

WHAT WOULD JOHN DORIAN DO?

Oh, right!

"Well, as they say," I started jauntily, scratching and lifting my chin, flashing them all my infamous smirk, "Germans make the WURST lovers!"

MAKE A POORLY SCRIPTED JOKE! Damn I love Scrubs.

The audience responded with coughs and blank stares, I assumed they hadn't understood, I mean, I'm really funny- so there couldn't be any other reason for them to not be laughing.

I stopped smirking and frowned.

The lack of laughter did take a blow to my confidence, so I felt the need to clarify.

Rolling my eyes and putting my hands on my hips, I stated matter-of-factly, "it was a _joke!_"

What followed was a chorus of shaky laughter.

Satisfied, I let the smirk slip back to it's rightful place on my awesome face (HAHA that rhymed! God I'm awesome) and sat down in front of them all.

Examining them again under my observant eyes, I decided that it would be useless to ask them what had happened- since it was so obvious (at least to the awesome me) that hey had charged in like idiots and got their asses handed to them on a silver platter by a gun-wielding blonde.

Nope, that didn't sound familiar at _all._

"So... Your Awesomeness," started a shy-looking young man, "was the Princess beautiful?"

My smirk widened, and I opened my mouth to respond when I was unexpectedly cut off by another soldier who OBVIOUSLY didn't know his place.

"Of course!" shouted one middle-aged man very enthusiastically. "She would have to be, considering her _bodyguard _was such a looker!"

There was a murmur of agreement as my brow once again creased. _Bodyguard? _

...Wait... were they talking about...?

Oh _HELL _no.

"Yeah, when the King gets the Princess- I call dibs on that babe!"

"No fair! You can't call dibs! I saw her first!"

"How did _you _see her first? You weren't even in the front line!"

My eye began to twitch in anger. How... _dare _they even THINK of laying a befouled hand on MY future wife! How dare they talk about her... er... him in such a callous manner! But most of all...

"HOW DARE YOU ALL TALK ABOUT MY AWESOME FUTURE WIFE AS IF I WEREN'T EVEN HERE! KNOW YOUR PLACES, SOLDIERS!" I bellowed at them, noticing quite a few of them jump and grow white with fear.

Damn straight they better be scared, it was serious business when I got mad. _Truly _mad. Usually the awesome me is pretty merciful and forgiving, I'm just that kind of guy, ya know?

..._But_ mess with what rightfully belongs to me, and I will rightfully beat you senseless.

It had gone silent as you may have guessed, but I could care less if I had scared them all shitless or not- I mean, I don't need to know it to justify my awesomeness- it is, after all, quite well known.

As a matter of fact, I think Vash has been without my awesome for far too long! Something must be done!

Alright, it's time for Plan A... Kesesese... Prepare yourself, Vash, YOU'RE ABOUT TO BE DAZZLED BY MY AWESOME.

"MEN!" I yelled, standing abruptly and causing them to scurry away from me in a sort of odd crabwalk. I rolled my eyes at them, and waved a hand to beckon them closer- they all did so reluctantly. Ignoring their failure as knights, I continued. "Okay, so I have a Plan. Let's call it... Plan A. Like apple." I nodded at my clarification, man I was a saint for considering the tiny brains of my followers. "Anyway, here's the plan. We all charge in at once, I mean, there's too many of us for him to shoot all at once, right? It's FLAWLESS!"

Many winced at the thought of how magnificent my plan was. Damn, I know I'm good at military strategy but to have someone recoil in absolute _adoration _of one of my plans is truly an honor.

("I think you're delusional.")

West, now isn't the time.

"You there!" I stated authoritatively, pointing at some random guy in the crowd. He pointed to himself incredulously, and turned white when I nodded cheerily in confirmation. "You will-"

Before I could finish my sentence he shook his head and said, "you're insane! I formally resign from the Teutonic Knights, I'm not going to die for a batshit King!"

Then he scrambled quickly away from the group, most likely disoriented by his random, completely unjustified outburst at me (I mean, ME? CRAZY? REALLY?) for he headed straight back into the gates of the estate, where he turned right and walked about two steps before a giant explosion erupted.

I frowned and scratched my chin in thought as the shrieks of panic and terror started around me.

Land mines, huh?

Touche, Vash, touche.

Well, there goes Plan A.

* * *

"Okay, this Plan will work for SURE!"

Plan Q is flawless!

I was set up on my valiant white pony, recently re-dressing as a proper king, crimson cape, golden shoulder-pads, sword and shield and all. And of course, my cock-sure grin.

Can't get anywhere without that.

Right, so Plan Q entailed my charging in with the men around me, securing the kitchen, and knocking Vash out to take back to my castle.

This was going to work.

Now, for a pep talk.

I ran up and down the first line of soldiers, who were shaking and holding their swords out in front of them as I had intstructed.

"Forth!" I yelled confidently as I reached the end of the line. I spun my pony around expertly and began trotting to the other end, hitting my sword with each of theirs as I passed. "Down fear of darkness! Arise! Arise, Riders of Prussia! Swords shall be shaken, shields shall be spli-! OH shit!" I stopped abruptly in the line, pulling out the sword that was embedded in the wrist of one of the soldiers. I turned forward again, shaking my head and waving a hand dismissively. "It's not my fault you were holding your sword out too far! Be more careful next time! ..And would you stop crying? Put some wurst on it, it'll be fiiine. Right. So where was I."

"...I think you were up to "shields," Your Awesomness," answered a different soldier shakily.

"RIGHT! Thank you, my good man!" I continued down the line, still bringing sword to meet sword like the epic King I am. "Shields shall be splintered! A sword day... a red day... and the sun rises!"

"B-but, Your Awesomeness," stuttered the shy young man from earlier. "It's almost sunset..."

My smile wavered.

How dare he speak out of turn!

"Speak against me again, soldier, and I'll make sure the sun never rises for you again. SO AS I WAS SAYING ...Ride now... Ride now... Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending"

"Uh, Your Awesomness, we don't have horses... and what about the world en-?"

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKES," I sighed in frustration, rubbing my temples after re-sheathing my sword. The cool, black leather against my skin did wonders for my irritation. "Just let me finish my speech, men. Then we charge in and everything goes as planned. Got it? GOT IT. Right. So." I pulled my pony to stand directly in front of the gates, staring out at the estate of my love. The eagerness and excitement for what was to come next burned anew, and a smirk painted my face. "I don't care how many of you die along the way, just remember, that this is for your KING. THIS IS FOR LOVE. FOR GLORY. FOR GILNEAS. FOR AWESOOOOOOOOME!"

And with a surreal, unearthly battle cry, I charged forward on my white steed, readying myself for what could be the toughest battle of my life.

And this would be the battle that decides whether this war of Love ended right now, or continued until I conquered.

This was a battle that decided it all.

Heart pounding in my ears as the explosions of land mines chorused around me, my smirk grew feral.

Like I said earlier, I've always loved a challenge.

* * *

"We've secured the kitchen, Your Awesomeness!" shouted someone through the dust and debris triumphantly.

"Good work, men!" I called back, smiling.

Yes, this had been quite the victory. Vash had met us in battle at the door, using tranquilizers on half of my men, but we'd outnumbered and over-powered him, forcing him back to the kitchen, where another fierce battle took place.

We'd again, overpowered him here, despite his ingenious plan for a decoy (he'd put a few sacks of flour on a chair and placed a blonde wig on top) and managed to successfully (and I admit, AWESOMELY) execute a surprise attack on us. Three quarters, if not more, of my men were down. About seven still remained, three with tranquilizers in some part of their body.

Yes, it would be a rough last push, but we could make it.

Now, though, we needed a good plan.

The adrenaline was still pumping heavily through my veins, and my eyes traveled swiftly from the sacks of destroyed flour, to the very powdery wig, to my four remaining men (the three others had just passed out) and a plan slowly began formulating.

I scrutinized them all one at a time, trying to choose the best one for my plan, before pointing to the tallest and most muscly of the bunch and stating, "YOU!"

"Me?" He asked happily, gesturing to himself.

I nodded in confirmation.

He smiled back at me like I had just told him Christmas was coming early.

I frowned.

Wait... Last time this happened I had someone blown up by a land mine...

Come to think of it, the men had a drastic mood change when we started the battle... It was almost like they were having _fun..._

But this is a battlefield, why would they be having fun?

NO MATTER, as long as my subjects are happy, so am I!

Now it's time to put my awesome plan to action!

* * *

The five of us have made quiet progress through the house, also securing the library near the kitchen. I had my men scout out Vash from there, one came back with a grin on his face and informed us that Vash had set up a barricade at the last door in this hall.

The same scout volunteered to be the decoy, and it was now time to strike.

Plan: Capture my Awesome Waifu!

* * *

**ALOON:**

I TRIED BEING SERIOUS AT THE END HAHA WHAT IS THIS.

Good. Lord. This is 15 pages.

I really, really, REALLY don't think this makes up for my not updating for like 7 MONTHS, but I will repent! Slowly, but surely!

Next chapter will be REALLY short. And I mean really, very short. It's told in Switzerland's PoV and it's going to be extremely short.

At least I'm updating again! ...MAYBE!

I really do appreciate all the favorites, alerts, and most of all, reviews. So I cannot apologize enough for making you all wait so long.

And if any of you caught my VERY obscure references this time, you're awesome.

Also, this was going to be longer (yes, longer) but I am so sick of this chapter that I ended it completely abruptly because I'm so full of fail like that. Worry not, though, the original ending for this chapter will appear soon enough (most likely chapter six).

Hope you enjoyed reading. C:

Oh, and I've found the official song for this story.

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART,

AND YOU'RE TO BLAME,

DARLING, YOU GIVE LOVE

A BAD NAME!

Yes, Bon Jovi. I will include it in another chapter.

**QAPY: **

Where the Hell was Rantzilla for 7 months?

How come none of the questions from last chapter were answered? (Lolol I SUCK)

What will Prussia's plan be?

Who will win this battle?

More importantly, who will win the _war_?

WHO DID RANTZILLA STEAL PRUSSIA'S SPEECH FROM? (If you get this, oh my God I love you!)

I am NOT making any promises with updates. Don't kill me.

And yes, again, I am apologizing. For apologizing so much.

*Sobs in corner*

And you all should consider yourselves lucky, Joey received the brunt of my mental breakdown over this. Seriously. Praise her for being able to deal with me.


	5. It's Her, Never Me

RIDICULOUSLY LONG WAIT FOR THIS CHAPTER IS RIDICULOUSLY LONG.

Sorry, Tristana, I enjoy Caps too much to give them up so easily /FAILSATLIFE (but I will try to use them a little less while writing... it's a bad habit though!)

ANYwho.

**Tristana **is full of even MORE win because she got Theoden's speech reference right and I seriously didn't think anyone who reads fanfiction was as much of a LotR nerd as me. Thank you for making me feel less nerdy.

FUUUUU JUST LOOKED AT MY REVIEWS.

**Miss Macabre Grey **I'M SO SORRY. THIS IS SO LATE. But you all should be used to it by now. Not that that's any excuse for my procrastination but HEY. I'm taking AP Calculus and AP US History right now, so cut me some slack. :c And thanks for bringing my long AN notes to attention... Derp.

AND IF YOU WANT EVEN MORE EXCUSES, I'VE BEEN WORKING ON ORIGINAL STUFF. 150 ORIGINAL CHARACTERS NOW ADERPAHERP.

* * *

**I'll be the Princess, You can be Target Practice**

_Chapter Five: It's Her, Never Me

* * *

_

I consider myself a rational man, on all accounts. I keep myself calm in dire situations, I hear people out, I never jump to conclusions, and _don't give me that look, I have a gun, and it's loaded._

Anyway, I'm pretty willing to compromise during any shocking event to occur- _however_- if this so-called event involves my baby sister getting _tackled _and _molested _by a _man I barely know_, I must say, all bets are off. And I become the Swiss equivalent to Rambo. _Because no one screws with my little sister and gets away with it. No one. _

Needless to say, that man was out of my house faster than you could say '_ich werde sie __töten_.'

However, I did _not _expect him to return.

Now- I am also rational in the sense that I think on the same level as normal human beings, meaning that usually I expect people to leave after I attempt to murder them, not come back through my field of land mines in an attempt to- well, er, I haven't quite figured that out myself yet, actually, he's a strange man and I do not want to even think about trying to track his erratic way of thinking things through. I mean, my way of thinking is a little strange, too, but my brain has evolved from that of a neanderthal.

So I am smart enough to deduce that he is coming for Lili (definitely Lili for sure, his hugs and compliments meant nothing at all while I was nursing him back to health... no, he's just odd), which meant I had her hide in the bomb shelter beneath the house in a vault secured by a fingerprint and eye-scanner. It has recently been refurbished, actually, now the inside has a mini-fridge, a flat-screen, a bookcase that turns around into a gun rack- of course, Lili doesn't know about that one.

In any case, when I got back upstairs after triple-checking the security system and arming myself with an old-fashioned blowgun at Lili's request, I came up with a half-assed decoy in the kitchen, where I hoped they would start first (since it's probably the only place Prussia will be able to locate in the house). Of course, my premonition, as always, turned out correct. But I was NOT prepared for an ambush of that many, who knew Prussia had so many followers, anyway?

So here I am after barricading myself at the far end of the hall, waiting with flash grenade in hand for the impending ambush.

And I find myself asking, _why_?

Admittedly, it's been fun- arguably the most fun I've had since I was a child- and maybe the Prussian _did _deserve a chance at life. Maybe. He wasn't all that bad, he was just a little... over-zealous, I suppose. Now I suppose if I could discourage him from his advances on Lili, he would make a pretty good sparring partne-

My thoughts were cut off as my alter-ego James Bond unhelpfully supplied an answer to my earlier query.

"_I discovered it had a crush on me."_

And then I figure that my premonitions _aren't _always correct, and Prussia deserved at least two tranquilizer shots to the neck, if not five.

...And that maybe, _maybe_ James Bond is losing his touch.

I completely deny any blushing whatsoever after Bond's comment.

* * *

**ALOON: **

Yeah, you waited this long, FOR THIS? Well, if you REALLY want an excuse- I suggest going to my profile! Prepare to be stunned as I curse life and all of its meaning.

I'm fine now, though, really. I actually got a really nice message from **sky-journey **which cheered me up so much! I doubt your reading this, but thank you. c:

And I was torn between James Bond quotes, I kinda wanted to use the 'I feel a slight stiffness coming on.. in the shoulder' one but I felt this one worked tons better.

Oh and:

**Ich werde sie töten **is I'm going to kill you in German, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Also- second to last line- FORESHADOWING OOOH!

Lol. FFF.

And I'm thanking everyone again for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. Makes Rant-Rant a happy Zilla. C:

**QAPY:**

Where is Waldo?

Why can't Rantzilla write in Switzerland's PoV?

WHY IS THIS CHAPTER ALL REVIEW, ONLY IN SWITZERLAND'S PoV FFFFFFFF?

Will Switzerland make amends with Prussia, or continue to shoot hate beams?

Why did Rantzilla make this chapter such a cock-tease?

I TOLD YOU THIS CHAPTER WAS SHORT (sorry Miss Macabre Grey :C)

K BYE FOR SRS.


End file.
